


Coffee Shop Farce

by RosexKnight



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Rumbelle - Freeform, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosexKnight/pseuds/RosexKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At exactly 9:15 on every morning, Mr. Gold would arrive at the Ever After Cafe in Storybrooke, and every morning at 9:17 Belle French was the one to serve it to him. This had become the routine in Storybrooke that slowly but surely changed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Shop Farce

At exactly 9:15 on every morning, Mr. Gold would arrive at the Ever After Cafe in Storybrooke (except the third Wednesday of every month when he came in at 2 p.m. to collect rent), settle into the single booth in the corner by the east window and order a cup of black coffee as he read over the morning paper. And every day at 9:17 Belle French was the one to serve it to him (except for the third Wednesday of every month where she gave him the rent and a cookie with a smile). This had become the routine in Storybrooke that slowly but surely changed.

No one was sure whether or not it was Belle's generosity or Gold's grumbling that caused it, but one day a muffin appeared on his table with his coffee mug.

"What's this, dearie?"

The brunette simply turned to him. "A muffin. You're not allergic to nuts are you?"

"I know what it is." He crumpled, "Why is it here?"

Belle liked away, pushing a curl behind her ear. "It...it was raining most of the week. And it's still quite humid."

"So?"

"So you were..." She glanced to his cane, and the pieces clicked into place for him. Worried. She'd actually been worried. And would spare him his dignity by not saying it. "You just looked like you needed a little pick-me-up. It's on the house."

He only nodded, and with a smile she was turning on her heel to help the next customer in line. From then on, something about their relationship was different. He still came in at exactly (:15 every day, and Belle French still served him, but things were different. On rainy days or days that she deemed him more grumpy than usual a muffin or cookie or some kind of pastry would appear on his plate. On slow mornings she would linger at his booth, and little by little their smalltalk evolved into fill-on debated on Arthurian Literature, and he found himself reading more than just the morning paper at his table. A new part of his routine was added when he realized they walked the same way after closing, and no one would care if he closed his shop five minutes early to run into her and walk with her to Granny’s or the library or wherever she was going that night, as long as it was the same way (and sometimes when it wasn’t, though he never told her that.) It was a comfortable routine, and if Gold were a stronger man he’d have asked the lovely Belle French to dinner by now. Shown her New York. Given her anything she asked for if only to see the way her blue eyes glimmered when she was excited. But Mr. Gold was a coward, and so things stayed as they were, in their comfortable routine.

Until they changed again.

“Play along.” Belle was sliding into the other side of his booth, making him look up from his copy of A Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. He barely had time to raise a brow at her when the door opened, and she was giggling at an inexistent joke he’d apparently told, leaning over the table casually and gesticulating with her hands, as if they’d done this a million times before. “Oh you’re too funny. I didn’t think you’d like that book very much but you don’t have to be so mean to it.”

After a moment, her expression turned apologetic and she gestured subtly to the counter, where a muscular man was ordering something from one of the baristas, all the while eyeing Belle sitting in his little booth with him. Suddenly, Gold felt a surge of pride, and he put the book down, all too happy to play along with her game.

“It’s not my fault the accent makes the character sound like a hick.” This enticed a genuine giggle from Belle, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d won the lottery. “Besides, you know I’m not one for Twain.”

“I suppose you’re right. But it’s an easier read than A Morte de Arthur.”

“You simply need to become more accustomed with old english.”

“Well maybe you should help me with that.”

Gold raised a brow at her once again, unable to tell if she was being serious or not. But then the man ordering was approaching them, and he went stiff. Belle’s grin faded into a look of dread before the man stopped, turning his back to Gold entirely as he spoke.

“Hey Bluebell!” He boomed, oblivious to the daggers being glared into the back of his head as Belle gave a polite smile.

“Hello Gaston.” She said, her voice altogether unwelcoming. “Can I help you? You’re interrupting.”

“I want to know what time I should pick you up for dinner tonight.”

Gold glanced to her, but she shook her head, answering his silent question. “We’re not having dinner tonight, Gaston you haven’t even asked me.”

“Well I’m asking you now.” Gaston said with a confident grin, taking a drink of whatever he’d ordered. “So? Pick you up at 7?”

“The lady has plans.” Gold growled, and Belle’s eyes shot to him. Gaston turned, looking down on Gold with a frown, but Gold didn’t falter. “Now if you’d be so kind as to leave, dearie, we were having a conversation.”

Gaston only turned to Belle. “Plans?”

Belle nodded, a sincere smile on her face now. “My boyfriend’s taking me to dinner.” She nodded to Gold, and he was doing his damndest not to smile. Even if this wasn’t real, he’d take every second of it. “And if you linger any longer I can’t guarantee my ability to hold him back from pummeling you with his cane.”

Gaston turned his glare to Gold, who only glared back. “You heard her, dearie. Best be off.”

With a grumble and a curse, Gaston stomped out of the cafe, and Belle didn’t deflate until the jingle of the door signaled his leave.

“Ex?” Gold ventured, his eyes softer now as he turned back to his coffee.

Belle nodded. “He can’t seem to understand I want nothing more to do with him.” She said, though didn’t make a move to get up. “Thank you. I appreciate this. What kind of muffin would you like? I owe you.”

Gold blinked at her from over his coffee mug. She was smiling at him, but her eyes were too soft for only a muffin to be on the line. She looked almost...expectant. something inside of him stirred, part of him wanting to tell her any sort and be off with the rest of his morning. But the other half knew better than to turn down this opportunity.

“I don’t want a muffin.” He said dryly, and she only tilted her head in confusion. He put his mug aside, fighting the grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Besides, you can make it up to me another way.”

She was suddenly skeptical. He could see it in her eyes. Belle was probably the only one in Storybrooke that didn’t fear him, but he did have a reputation. “How?”

“By letting me take you to dinner.” Her brows almost touched her hairline, and he shrugged. “Well we have to make it look authentic.”

There was a pause as Gold held his breath, but then Belle was giggling, and he deflated with relief. Giggling. She was giggling. That wasn’t a no.

“Wouldn’t I have to start calling you my boyfriend?” She pointed out, and Gold’s cheeks reddened.

“W-well...only if you’d like to, dearie.”

“Well, we have to make it look authentic.”  
This time, Gold didn’t fight the smile that came, and she was giggling once again as she stood, crossing over to his side of the booth to give his shoulder a squeeze and his hair a kiss.

“I have to get back to work.” She said. “I’ll see you at closing time when you pretend to bump into me. We can go from there. Deal?”

Gold’s eyes widened. She knew. She’d known. She’d always known. Had probably been waiting for this. And he’d been sitting there oblivious to it all. He’d been a wanker. A completely idiotic wanker that did not deserve this beautiful brunette smiling at him like he actually mattered. Perhaps he could let himself think he did, could be loved by someone for something other than his money, if only for her. And so, he nodded.

“Deal.”


End file.
